


Ricochet

by letjusticeprevail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Bi-Gender Character(s), Friendship/Love, Mutant Powers, Possessive Dean Winchester, Superheroes, X-Men References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:46:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letjusticeprevail/pseuds/letjusticeprevail
Summary: In a word where mutants are feared and often exiled, the supernatural lurks on the horizon. A rag tag team of underground mutants might just be humanities best bet after all. Dean's an empath and Cas... well, Cas is something else entirely.





	1. The meeting

Fear. Dark, black and pungent. Dean would know the feel of it anywhere. He concentrates harder, because there’s something else, definitely something else below the surface.  **_Winchester_ ** _.  _ Underneath the fear, something dark and primal, ancient even. Almost.. _. _ **_Winchester!_ ** Almost like what he felt that fiery night so many years ago. Something evil.

 

 ** _“WINCHESTER!”_** The sound of Benny’s gruff drawl tears through his concentration like a freight train. Dean shakes his head, snapping himself out of his reverie and back into action. He turns to see Benny struggling with two of yellow eye’s goons. Despite the situation, Dean notes that he somehow seems more annoyed than actually concerned about his current predicament. Typical Benny

 

“For fuck’s sake Dean, you can do your weird soul searching shit later”, Benny grunts. “I got this one”, he says, then turning his burning red irises toward the poor bastard currently struggling in his grip, bears his fangs and digs in right to the bone.  _ Crack _ . Dean watches as the man, or at least the remnants of what Dean suspects was once a man, falls limp. He can’t help but wonder if having his neck snapped might have somehow been a mercy. Can’t even begin to imagine what Yellow eye’s must have done to him. “Here”, Benny says, blood dripping from his now red coated fangs. “This one is yours”. 

 

He tosses the other lackey over to Dean. Dean picks him up by the neck easily, lifting him a good two feet off the ground. He takes a second to regard the creature. Breathing in deep and letting himself feel. But… as with the others he feels nothing. Devoid. Humanity burned out by Yellow Eye’s experiments and torture. Once he is certain he can not make out a single emotion, he tightens his grip around the things neck, snapping it in seconds. 

 

“Looks like the dog has finally gotten himself a bone” Gordon says, throwing Dean a disgusted look. He swaggers past Dean, reaching out to mockingly flick the the top of his pointed ears. Before he can catch himself, Dean feels the beginnings of a growl rumbling from within his chest. His luminous green eyes slitting in anger. He tries to real himself back in, but its too late, He can tell from the cheeky smirk on Gordon’s face that the reaction was exactly what he wanted. Man Dean would really live to go a few rounds with him in the training room, show him just how much of an animal he can truly be.

 

Dean can feel the a light wave of hatred rolling off of Gordon. He would bet his left nutsack that there’s plenty more floating around in that head of his than Gordon is letting on. Every mutant has got their limitations, for Dean it just so happens to be telepaths. He can read them, especially if he were to really try, but on a base level he can only sense small waves of a strong emotion. Knowing that he can somewhat block Dean’s abilities brings Gordon some weird ass sense of security, probably because it pisses him off more than he’ll admit that Dean’s head is the only one Gordon can’t get into. Turns out that being an empath has its perks. 

 

“What’s the matter Gordon, mad it wasn’t yours?” Dean says, throwing him a wink. “Sorry, tall dark and douchbag is not really my type”. And because he’s Dean winchester, snarky son of a bitch, and sarcasm extraordinaire, he lays on his biggest shit eating grin. 

 

“You know what Dean, fuck you! An animal like you shouldn’t even be here. You’re no hero, you're just a mercenary punk who just got lucky. I don’t know what Bobby even sees in you, probably just looking out for your punkass as a favor to your Deadbeat alcoholic father” Gordon snears. 

 

Now Dean’s been called a lot of things in his life. A dog, an animal, a demon, but one thing he’s never been is patient, and he’s had about enough of Gordon’s bullshit for one mission. He reaches for his hunter’s blade, but before he can advance any further Benny steps in slamming him into the wall behind him. 

 

“Cool it Dean. Gordon may be an asshole, but he’s still your partner, and we still have a mission”.  Dean knows he’s right, he’s not thinking with his human brain, he’s in primal mode, being every bit the animal Gordon thinks he is. His neck burns with shame. Dean’s, left that life behind, he doesn’t want to lose control again. He’s got to start doing better. Benny holds him there for a minute. Red eyes digging into Dean’s own slitted green ones. 

 

“Better?” Benny says after a beat.

“Better” Dean replies with a nod. A silent thank you exchanged between them. If anyone knows what it can be like living with a mutant gene that often leaves you feeling less human more days than not, it’s Benny. And for that reason they have been thicker than thieves, brothers even, since Dean joined the team back when he was 18 and working under Allasiter. Before bobby found him and reminded him that he  _ was _ human. That his powers could be used for good if given the right training.  _ God, was that really only a year ago? _ . Benny nods, taking a step back and releasing Dean. If Dean wasn’t stronger than average, Benny might have really hurt him. The guys built like a tank, strong as one too, but as it stands the force was just enough to knock his head back into the game.

 

“Same goes for you Gordon. Shut the fuck up and focus on the mission”. To Dean’s relief Gordon complies, grumbling a resentful “fine, dickhead” under his breath. Dean knows Benny probably doesn’t catch it, but Dean can hear just about anything within a 50 mile radius, so his pointed ears pick up the insult easily. 

 

“ Alright Brotha, do your thing, Where is this asshole hiding?” Benny says, gesturing to Dean.

 

“Intel says they are on the forty-fourth floor. I can definitely smell blood. Whatever it is, its scared. But Benny, man, there’s something else. I can’t place it but we gotta be cautious. It could be dangerous”.  

 

“I don’t think it’s human. I would have caught at least a thought or something by now”, Gordon adds.

 

“Alright Dean, take point on this one. If it’s not human that means Gordon can’t get a read on it. We are gonna need your senses and tracking abilities” Benny says.

 

Dean nods his head, accepting the command with ease. “Alright, Gordon, think you can take us the express route”, he says, motioning his head towards the seemingly endless flight of steps before them. 

 

Gordon scoffs, “Sure Winchester, for once you’re not the problem, it’s Benny’s fatass I gotta worry about levatating”. Despite the comment, Dean knows he’s joking, In addition to being the world’s most annoying telepath, Gordon’s also a powerful telekinetic. Dean’s seen the guy lift multiple cars before, he knows levitating three guys up forty or so flights is pretty much cakewalk for him.

 

Dean watches as gordon takes a deep breath. There’s a moment where nothing happens and then Dean feels it, the same feeling that keeps him the fuck off planes. That gut wrenching feeling of weightlessness. He reminds himself to keep from looking down as they ascend. As they reach the forty-fourth story the smell of blood and gore becomes stronger. Dean starts to make out other smells alongside it. There’s blood, but also vomit, stomach acid, the rancid smell of shit. Chard flesh. Whatever the fuck this thing is, it didn’t come to play. The feeling of solid ground beneath his feat allows him to finally breathe again, but the relief is short lived. The sight in front of them is like something out of a horror movie. Dean thought he had an idea of what awaited based on the smell, but seeing and imagining are two different things. There is blood everywhere, on the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Various body parts and limbs litter the floor. An arm, intestines, several heads of men and women. It's a massacre. 

 

He reaches down, letting his hands touch the floor. He lets his sense go, taking in the sights, sounds, smells, and residual feelings ricocheting around him. Something always lingers. As an empath he is able to combined the residual energy around him, and sometimes if he is lucky enough, and if strong emotions occured very recently, he can recreate what occurred. Before his mind’s eye an image forms, a reconstruction of what had occured. He can hear echos of screams. ** _Kill it, fucking kill it_**! Soldiers, his mind supplies.   ** _Sir, the subject has become far too strong. We never should have tampered with it, this type of power its far too ancient, far beyond us._** A woman's voice Dean thinks, he can tell by the whiff of  pheromones he smells in the air. **_Help us, god help us!_**  Then finally, **_We have waited so long for the return of a noco de teloah, the one!_**

 

He tries to replay the last part in his head, but the energy is fading fast. He’s lucky to have gotten as much as he has. Still he has to know,  **_a noco de teloah_ ** rattles in his brain like an old radiator **_._ ** The man is definitely not speaking english, but Dean can’t seem to place the language. 

 

“Uh..Dean?”, Benny’s voice cuts in

_ What does it mean? _

“Dean?”

_ What does it mean? _

“Dean?!”

 

“Jesus Benny what?, I’m trying to work my mojo here” Dean growls, fighting to hold his concentration so as not to lose what little he’s pieced together. When Benny doesn’t answer Dean finally relents, but not because of Benny. He relents because that  _ fear _ is back. His head snaps up. Expecting to see the monster responsible for all of this carnage. What he doesn’t expect to find is a child of maybe 8 years, standing in the middle of said carnage, a dazed look in his striking blue eyes. He covered in blood and organ matter himself, herself? Dean can’t really tell. The child smells of both female and male hormones. He knows right off the bat that this kid has somehow killed every single person in this room. More like obliterated them. He knows this and still he feels the strangest urge to walk over to the child. He’s always had a soft spot for them, probably going back to all those years raising sammy if he’s honest. 

 

“Deaaaan?”, Benny warns. The silent  _ what the fuck are you doing?  _ doesn't go unnoticed. Dean wishes he knew. All he knows is that there is a traumatized kid in front of him, and fuck all if he isn’t gonna do something about it.

 

He walks up to the kid, hands out in a placating gesture. After all he’d like to keep his organs in his body if he can help it. He kneels down so as to be eye level with the small child.

 

“What’s your name sweetheart?” Dean cooes 

 

The child flinches, tears dripping silently down their cheek. 

 

“Hey, Hey it’s okay. I know your scared. I saw some bad things when I was your age too. But it’s okay we can help you”, Dean says softly. He knows the kid has got to be a mutant, knows even better what it is like to be lost at the mercy of your powers at such a young age. The kid looks up at him, piercing blue eyes standing out starkly against the blood on his face and  seemingly burrowing into his soul. That when he feels it, a strange tickling sensation in his head, not enough to be painful or even annoying, just there. He knows it for what it is. The kids a telepath, a fucking strong one at that. Dean’s never known a single telepath who could get a read on him, and in seconds this kid is in his head. He doesn’t like it, but he also doesn’t want to scare the kid away by closing him out, especially if he’s willing to communicate. Dean takes a depth breath, using his ability to settle the child with a wave of comfort and safety. He smiles when he sees the child’s small body visibly deflate with relief.

  
_ My name’s Dean,  _ He says in his head. A moment goes by where he begins to think that maybe this is a lost cause, but then, softly timidly he hears it in his head.  _ Castiel _ the child says.  _ My name is Castiel. _


	2. King of the Strays

 

“What the hell are we doing here boy?” Bobby asks gruffly, gesturing to the child cowering slightly behind Dean. Dean wishes he knew, really he does. Right now he’s holding the hand of an eight year old child, who he’s pretty damn sure just massacred more than fifty soldiers back at Roman industries, without a clue as to what the fuck he’s actually trying to accomplish here. Still, Dean finds it hard to believe that Bobby, Benny or even that dick bag Gordon would have had it in them to leave a kid behind, a mutant kid at that. One of  _ them _ .

 

“ _ Bobby _ ….” Dean sighs out, pinching the bridge of his nose in an exasperated gesture. He immediately  _ feels _ bobby’s annoyance, bright orange and hot. He tries to adjust his tone before Bobby can tear into him, but knows it's already too late.

 

“Don’t you ‘Bobby’ me Dean!” He growls out, glaring what might as well be daggers square into the middle of Deans forehead. Dean’s glad he doesn't actually have the power to shoot daggers from his eyes, like the mutie down in 304. “You can’t just mosey on in bringing about every damn stray you find out there boy, especially without my saying so”, Bobby says harshly.

 

“Why not?!” Dean snaps. “Isn’t that what you did for me and Sammy? Back when we were on the streets and I was fighting for Alistair at the cages every night? Weren’t we just a couple of  _ strays _ ”, he says, putting extra emphasis on the use of Bobby’s word. Bobby flinches and than visibly deflates at that. He knows he’s coming across strong, but he wants, no  _ needs _ Bobby to understand why he couldn’t leave the kid,  _ Castiel _ , behind. Dean’s just finally started to feel human again for the first time in years after Alistair. How could Bobby expect him to leave Castiel in all that carnage, at Roman industries of all places, and still call himself human? Hell he still has yet to figure out what the kid was doing there in the first place, but knowing the reputation Roman industries has for torturing and experimenting on mutants, he can’t imagine it ever having been a good reason.

 

“Alright,  _ alright _ Dean”, Bobby says, going for annoyed placation but reeking of apologetic more than anything. “Look boy, All i’m saying is a heads up would have been nice. The rooms here don’t pay for themselves you know. We can’t all have inherited a nice mansion like that bald son of a bitch Xavier”. Dean can help but chuckle at that. Sometimes he can’t help but wonder what his life would be like if he had been found by Charles Xavier instead of Bobby Singer. Sure he’d have a nicer room, but well John and Bobby had history and somehow that has made this transition a whole lot easier than Dean thinks could have been possible up at the school for the gifted.

 

A soft hand tugs gently on his own right one, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.  _ Right, the kid.  _ In his eagerness to win bobby over, he’d almost forgotten the whole reason for their argument in the first place. He looks down at him, soft blue eyes looking up at Dean expectantly. The kid’s quiet as a mouse, probably why Dean almost forgot he was there in the first place, but he’s got this aura about him that radiates a strange level of comfort. Dean watches as Castiel turns to look up at Bobby expectantly, curiously waiting to see what happens next.

 

Bobby looks down at him, scratching his beard and then quickly looking back up at Dean as if to say  _ now what? _ The discomfort radiating off of him in waves, is nearly enough to send Dean into a fit of laughter. There’s just something hilarious about an eight year old putting a  forty-seven year old ex-marine on edge.

 

“Fine”, Bobby grumbles under his breath. “Alright kid, what’s your name?” he says gruffly.

 

Castiel blinks up at him slowly, dark lashes fanning over soft round cheeks. He bites his lip nervously, squeezing Dean’s hand a little tighter. “Castiel” he says softly. And it’s the first time Dean’s hearing his actual voice, light and so soft he nearly misses it.

 

“Okay Castiel, It’s very nice to meet you. Why don’t we take you to go get cleaned up? can’t have you walking around with all of that blo… well all of  _ that _ on you, now can we” Bobby says, gesturing at the remains of god knows who coating the kids skin and hair. He eyes Dean wearily. 

 

A moment goes by where Castiel stays silent, continuing to eye bobby with a weary look. When Bobby  makes to take Castiel’s hand, Dean notices as the kid steps backward, hiding himself partially behind the teenager’s legs. 

 

“Castiel” Bobby chastises softly, reaching for his hand again, only to have the kid step further behind Dean, small hand tightening in a death grip around Dean’s own.

 

“Boy, come here”, Bobby tries again, more sternly, to which Castiel shakes his head furiously, now wrapping both hands around Dean’s legs. 

 

Bobby shoots Dean an exasperated look, throwing his hands up in defeat.

 

“Looks like you went and got a damn baby duck to imprint on you boy” Bobby says exasperatingly. From, the way the kid is holding onto him, Dean’s beginning to think Bobby might be onto something. He shrugs, trying hard but failing to hide his smirk. “Yup, that’s me, king of the strays” Dean says, shooting Bobby his cheekiest grin. 

 

“Oh fuck you”, Bobby says, but Dean knows him well enough to know there ain’t really any sting to it. “Well since you’re just a regular ol’ mother hen now , why don't you go on and take him to the showers then, seeing as he likes being around you so damn much”. 

 

“Oh Bobby come on!  can’t Sam do it or something?” Dean whines. Being every bit the teenager Bobby know he is. 

 

“No Dean, the kid’s taken a liking to you. We don’t want to risk stressing him out even more”. Bobby says, than leaning in more closely so as to avoid Castiel’s ears he whispers, “Especially since we don’t know what his abilities are yet, if you catch my drift”. Bobby eyes him cautiously. 

 

Dean most certainly does catch his drift, the massacre back at yellow eye’s lab still hasn’t left him exactly. Part of the downfall of being an empath he supposes, is that it takes a little extra time to drop all the emotions you pick up. Dean’s gotten better at it with age, but even now he still struggles to keep a strong barrier between his emotions and the emotions of others. At least now he can limit his emotional eptitude to identification of feelings if he needs to, when he was a kid he use to honest to god feel, as if first hand, the emotions of others whether he wanted to or not. That proved particularly hard for a four year old Dean, feeling first the crippling pain as his mother burned alive in that fire all those years ago, and then after the equally crippling grief of a father left with two young boys to raise and nothing but vengeance in his heart. Needless to say it fucking sucked, for a long time.

 

He was a troubled child all throughout grade school, always getting into fights because some dumb lug a mile away was on a raging bender, or crying hysterically because the lady down the street just found out she had cancer.  His abilities knew no limit, no matter how far away the subject, somehow those emotions always found a way to Dean, a way that none of his classmates or teachers were aware of. Bipolar II disorder with co occurring oppositional defiant disorder, that’s what they slapped him with at age eight. The word mutant never even crossed his doctor’s mind. Dean doesn’t blame them too much though, it’s not like there’s an empath diagnosis in the DSM-V. It followed him around like a ball and chain until the rest of his more physical mutations kicked in at ten. After that, there was no more denying that he was a mutant. So Dean lost his diagnosis sure, but in the end he would lose so much more. John pulled him out of school, after all, couldn’t have an elf-eared, cat eyed mutie kid hanging around the fourth grade. It wasn’t until he was a little older that Dean realized that maybe John hadn’t pulled hm out of school for his own safety so much as he had finally found his own personal human tracker for yellow eyes. Dean was strong, even at ten, he was almost as strong as John, an empath, and the ultimate hunting machine with his perceptive abilities and enhanced senses. Most importantly, he could defend Sammy like no other, and in the end that was all that mattered to his father.  **_Daddy’s obedient little attack dog_ ** _ ,  _ Alistair's nasally voice supplies for him.

 

He shakes his head at that, body filling with disgust at hearing Alistair’s voice in his head again. Next to him Bobby grimaces as if tasting something undesirable, no doubt feeling the projecting of disgust emanating from Dean. Dean fills his cheeks heat up with shame. He hasn’t lost control like that in quite a while. It’s one thing to occasionally let a stranger’s emotions cohabitate with his own, it’s another to accidentally let himself project onto others. Dean’s always prided himself on his ability to help others, so it pisses him off when he affects another person’s mood in a negative way, especially someone like Bobby.

 

“Sorry”, Dean mutters, rubbing his rapidly heating neck.

 

“It’s okay boy”, Bobby says, slapping a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. “The key is to not let your mind wander too much. Listen, take the kid to the showers and then when you’re done take him to Charlie for some tests. It’s time we find out what we’re dealing with here”, he whispers, motioning toward Castiel with his chin. He doesn’t bother to inquire further about Dean’s little slip up. He’s got a feeling that Bobby knows it has to do with Alistair, but he doesn’t mention it, and for that Dean’s glad. He’s not sure he wants to open up that can of worms right now, especially with everything that’s going on. 

 

“Yeah”, he nods, “Yeah okay, but after that you, me, Benny and that bag of dicks Gordon need to hold a meeting about what happened at Roman industries and that son of a bitch yellow eyed bastard”, Dean growls. 

 

He doesn’t regret saving Castiel for one minute, even if it meant letting Yellow Eyes get away. He has not lost sight of his mission, not by a long shot. Yellow Eyes will die, if it’s the last thing Dean does on this earth, he will die. The promise of finally killing the bastard that killed his mother and subsequently ruined his entire life is  what got him to accept Bobby’s offer in the first place, to join the mutant underground. He made a promise to John and no matter his relationship with his father he’s gonna fucking keep it. 

 

“We’ll get him Dean”, I promise you that son”,  Bobby says, nodding in agreement. With that he turn on his heel, throwing Castiel one last weary glance before heading toward what Dean suspects will be Charlie’s office. 

 

Dean looks down at Castiel expectantly, wincing when his nostrils flare with the smell of dried blood.  _ Yeah okay _ , he thinks to himself,  _ shower first and then Yellow Eyes.   _


	3. Not like you

Dean groans out loudly as the hot water from the shower head beats down rapturously along his sore and bruised muscles Sure he’s strong, but even he has his limits. He lets his mind wander back to the previous night. The mission was a simple one, breach Roman Industries, capture Yellow Eyes and bring him back alive to the mutant underground. After Gordon got what he needed from that fucked up head of his, well let’s just say Bobby had promised he’d be Dean’s to Deal with. Nothing sounded sweeter to his ears. He uses his left arm to work out some kinks in his right shoulder, hissing when he hits a particularly tender spot. Yellow Eyes’ goons were pretty quick work for the most part, back at Roman Industries, but even he has his limits. 

Every mutie knew about Dick Roman, the way all children know about the boogie man at one point. The Romans have hated mutants for as long as Dean can remember, definitely before his dad and Bobby’s time that’s for sure. Legend has it that a mutant killed Dick’s great great grandma, and well mutants around the world have been paying for it ever since. Dean’s not entirely convinced that the story is anymore true than Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. In his time studying under Alistair, and having been an empath all his life,  Dean’s learned a thing or two about people. Sometimes people don’t need a reason to be fucked up, sometimes they just are. Dick Roman is one of those people. 

 

The weird thing about the whole situation is that despite Dick’s disgust toward mutation, and despite basically building his entire political campaign on projecting mutants as a threat to homo sapiens everywhere, he has some ultra fucked up fixation on mutant abilities. This is the part he keeps in the shadows from the general public. He runs one of the top pharmaceutical conglomerates in the world, yet no one has ever wondered just how he develops these “miracle cures” for diseases that went untreated for decades; cancer, aids, malaria, cystic fibrosis, you name it. Dick Roman smiles in interview after interview promising “medical science” as a means of a brighter and healthier future all the while torturing, experimenting on and ultimately killing hundreds of mutants a year. Even if people didn’t line up to eat the bullshit he spews, Dean still thinks no one would care to look deeper into how exactly these miracles are occurring. When it comes down to the bare bones of it, no one cares if a mutant goes missing in the night,especially the ones with visible mutations like Dean. 

 

Which Brings him back to Castiel. From what Dean can see, on the outside he has no physical mutations. Someone would have noticed if he’d gone missing, a parent, a neighbor, hell even a teacher at least. How on earth he ended up under the possession of Dick Roman baffles him. _ Just what is it about him?  _

 

“I’m different, like you “, he hears a soft voice next to him offer up. Dean nearly jumps out of his skin. Because   **One:**  it is nearly impossible to get the jump on someone who can hear and smell a flea from 50 miles away,  **two:** because Castiel is somehow reading his thoughts  _ again _ , and  **three** : he’s naked.  

 

“Cas, hey, uhm I thought you were cleaning up in the stall over there?”, Dean says, gesturing across the room and doing his best to keep the squeak out of his voice. He knows in theory Castiel is just a kid, but still he can’t help but feel at least a little bit awkward being naked in front of him.

 

“I finished” He says, shrugging his small shoulders as if nonplussed by the current predicament he has put Dean in.

 

“I see that, but-” A sudden wave of curiosity hits him hard, stopping him mid sentence. Dean notices that Cas is no longer looking up at him, but rather staring down at his body with innocent interest, particularly one part of his body. Dean feels his entire face heat up with embarrassment.

 

“I don’t look like you,” he says, round face scrunching up in frustration as he looks down at himself then back up at Dean, “Mine is different”, he pouts, reaching down to poke at his own genitals in curiosity..

 

Dean feels his face somehow become redder, because well now his interest is peaked, and he’s gotta look. He wondered before why he couldn’t place Cas’ gender off of pheromone scent alone. At first he thought the male and female scents were coming from, well the massacred remains of men and women that had been coating Cas when he found him, but now he sees that that is definitely not the case. Cas _ doesn’t _ look like him down there, to be fair he doesn’t look like a girl either. He’s kind of somewhere in the middle. Dean’s never seen anything quite like it and he’s had his fair share of one nights with guys and girls alike. He’s at a loss for words, something that only seems to cause Castiel more frustration.

 

“Dean?” He says, tilting his Head in a quisical manner, reminding Dean somewhat of a bird.

 

“Wel-” Dean struggles, clearing his throat when nothing else comes out the first time. “Well, uh, Cas, sometimes people are different...down there”, he gestures awkwardly. “There’s nothing really wrong with it, it’s just different is all”, Dean finishes, flopping his arms hopelessly. He’s got nothing really. All his battle training has not prepared him for this. Not even raising Sammy. 

 

“Okay” Castiel says dejectedly, seemingly unsatisfied with Dean’s answer.

 

“Hey, tell you what, why don’t we both get changed and you can ask Charlie all the questions you want. She’s a really nice Doctor, you’ll like her. She has a lot of ways of helping people that are different”.

 

“Like me”, Cas says, crossing his arms together dejectedly.

 

“Like  _ all of us _ ”, Dean corrects, ruffling his wet hair playfully. “Now come on, I think we are long overdue for clothes”. Dean chuckles. “Hurry up”. 

 

He breathes a sigh of relief when Castiel nods and scrambles over to the locker room to get the clean clothes Bobby had left for him earlier. He hates to throw Charlie under the bus, but hey she  _ is _ a doctor after all, and definitely better suited than Dean to answer Cas’ questions. He makes quick work of his own clothes, toweling off his dirty blonde hair. He forgoes his slippers, opting to go barefoot as usual. He likes to be able to feel the ground, much better for the senses. He’s further relieved when Castiel re-emerges fully clothed. Dean can’t help but smirk at how small he looks in the handy downs, sleeves hang over his hands. It reminds him of Sam when he was that small. 

 

Castiel scowles up at him, as if already anticipating Dean’s teasing. 

 

“Alright Kiddo, what do you say we catch up with Bobby and Charlie”, Dean says, holding out his hand. Once Castiel has taken a firm hold, he leads them down the hall, hoping to get some answers for the two of them. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Took you long enough boy”, Bobby grunts out upon seeing Dean lead Castiel through the door of Charlie's office.

 

“Well we got kind of… held up”, Dean says, grimacing at the memory of Cas’ innocent but oh to awkward line of questioning. “I’ll tell you about it later”.

 

The sound of muffled pop music steals Dean’s attention. He turns to find Charlie, sitting at her desk, laptop out and headphones blaring. She smiles down at her computer, nodding along to the music as she types in her medical log. The bobble head Hermione on her desks bounces along, seemly syncing up with charlie to the beat. Her eyes shift up from where they were previously trained on the laptop screen, landing on Dean excitedly.

 

“Dean!” Charlie leaps up, scrambling around her desk. She nearly stumbles backward when her headphone cord catches on the corner of her desks but quickly untangles herself before crushing Dean in a bear hug. 

 

Charlie doesn’t have super strength like Dean, but she does give some serious hugs when she wants too. Dean hugs her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. It’s been too long since he’s seen her and he hadn’t really realized how much he missed her. Since joining the underground, Charlie has become something life a surrogate older sister to he and him. Aside from Bobby Dean had a hard time trusting the other mutants, but eventually Charlie and Benny became some of his closest friends.

 

“And who is this?” Charlie asks, stepping back from Dean and peering down at Cas.

 

“This is Cas”, Dean says, placing a reassuring hand on the kid’s shoulder.

 

“Cas?” Bobby says, raising an eyebrow at the nickname

 

“Well Castiel doesn’t exactly roll of the tongue does it? “ Dean says sarcastically. 

Bobby throws him a shrug as if to say, ‘you have a point there’.

 

“Well, Cas it is then”, Charlie says, behind a bright smile. “How’d he get here?” She asks more seriously, looking expectantly between Bobby and Dean.

 

“Well, “ Bobby says settling against the door frame ad crossing his arms, “Dean found him at Roman industries. Dean watches Charlie’s eyes go dark at the mention of the resident mutie boogeyman. 

 

“I couldn’t just leave him there Charlie”, Dean says cutting in.

 

“No of course not” Charlie nods gravely.

 

“Look Charlie, Dean and I were kind of hoping you could run an exam on the kid. We know he’s a telepath of some sort, that much is true, but we want to know the full extent of his abilities, along with a complete physical and check up. 

 

“Throw in a psych eval too”, Dean says. Charlie blinks surprisingly at that. “Yeah yeah, I know I’m no Dr. Phil when it comes to expressing feelings, but I  _ am _ an empath. He reeks of residual fear and pain”. 

 

Dean leans in more closely, whispering in Charlie's ear. “Something happened to him back there Charlie, I don’t know what, but it’s Dick Roman. Whatever it is, it can’t be good”. 

 

“I know Dean, I know”, she says sympathetically. She reaches out, squeezing his arm in a comforting gesture before turning to Cas.

 

“Hey Castiel, My name is Dr. Bradbury, but you can just call me Charlie. Is it okay if you come hang out with me for a bit in my office?” She says, reaching her hand out.

 

Castiel bites his lip, looking worriedly up at Dean. 

 

“It’s alright Cas, Charlie is one of the good guys”, he says, giving his most reassuring smile. When he sees Cas visibly sighs out in relief he knows he’s won him over.

 

“Alright kid, let’s see what you got”, Charlie says. 

 

Dean watches curiously as the doors close behind them 


End file.
